Heaven's Alchemy
by nb41
Summary: A Post-Star Trek Into Darkness adventure set during the five year mission, in which a distress signal draws the crew of the Enterprise into the legacy of an ancient space station and its mysterious inhabitants.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes**

Sequel to _Beneath the Enormous Sky_ and _If He Should Not Sing_, though theoretically readable stand-alone.

'Unethical experimentation' is a recurring topic in the piece, and although it's not graphic as per the rating, consider yourself warned.

Karen Tracy met an unfortunate end in TOS' _Wolf in the Fold_, but this is the AOS, so as far as I am concerned she lives on.

The Spock/Uhura and Jim/Gaila are blink-and-you'll-miss-it.

I remain largely ignorant of the mechanics of astrophysics and astronomy, and am only having fun.

* * *

Spock thought Mr. Scott spoke for just about everyone on the bridge when he said, "Now that's something."

The dense molecular cloud of gas and dust spread out before the _Enterprise_ as far as their sensors could read, rendered beautiful by Chekov's false color scheme. Greenish towers curled up and away from a frayed and boiling expanse of stunning red shot through with dense pockets of blue. Yellow and orange highlights marked the cloud's borders, making it easier to see clear paths through the churning structure; they shifted like unbound ribbons tossed in a careless wind. All told, it was nearly fifty light-years across at this end, and Spock's data suggested the widest point might be closer to one hundred light-years wide.

"It sure is," the captain agreed. "How's it looking, Mr. Chekov?"

Chekov pulled up a handful of readouts to the left of the cloud's display and labeled three of the blue regions, one with more extensive text than the others. "The protostar is in this central area, Captain. These other two may soon form into protostars as well, though my projections indicate that will not be for another one thousand years at the earliest."

Spock scrutinized some of the readings. They were as promising as he could have hoped for.

"Scotty, how long are we good to stick around?"

"As long as you don't intend to dive on in there, Captain, we should be fine. The core's been stable since we arrived."

"Good. In that case," Jim turned to Spock, "the cloud's all yours, Mr. Spock."

"Thank you, Captain. Mr. Sulu, if you would please accompany me."

"Yes sir."

Lieutenant Darwin took Sulu's seat at the helm, and Spock and Sulu left for the shuttle hangar.

* * *

Protostars weren't particularly uncommon, but protostars very close to ignition _and_ in a location which allowed for close examination were. Even the Vulcan Science Academy's closet pass to one had been from three light-years out.

The _Enterprise_ was currently a mere ten astronomical units away from the protostar Chekov had identified, and the probes would orbit much closer than that, providing the Federation with a wealth of data. If they were extremely lucky, the star might even ignite during the probes' functional lifespan (and, Spock secretly hoped, his own).

Spock and Sulu made two passes in their shuttle: the first to take measurements for calibrating the probes, and the second to launch them. Everything went smoothly, and they returned to the ship in just under four hours.

By the time they were back on the bridge the probes had finished synchronizing and were streaming to the ship. Spock had thought to find Jim going over the initial results with Chekov, however he was at Uhura's station, discussing something with her that had given them both somber expressions. Uhura glanced to Spock as soon as he approached, which drew the captain's attention as well.

"You didn't pick up any transmissions other than ours, did you?"

Spock raised his eyebrows, somewhat surprised by the question. "No, Captain, though Lieutenant Sulu and I had some difficulty reading the _Enterprise_ through the cloud's interference, despite making adjustments to the sensors. We could easily have failed to detect any other communications directed at us."

To go by their expressions, that wasn't the answer they'd been expecting. Jim nodded at Uhura, and she told Spock, "I've been picking up a subspace signal. Layered transmission, cyclic, very high band, heavily encrypted. It's been running almost the entire time we've been here."

That, at least, explained their concern. Cyclic transmissions almost always fell into one of a handful of categories, and none of them could be taken lightly. "Have you decrypted it yet?"

"Only the first layer, and it's not any language we have on file. I'm analyzing it now, and should have an algorithm to run through the language processor within the hour. Computer Engineering is still working on the other layer."

"Have you ascertained the location of the signal's source?"

Uhura tapped on her console to bring up the chart. "It's not far from here. Our records show a binary neutron star system with a low density nebula and not much else in the area." It was one of the oldest recorded binary neutron star systems on record, with a tiny secondary component.

Jim considered the chart, and Spock considered him in turn. "Weird place for a signal to be coming from," he said.

"It is a curious location, which suggests a need for caution."

Jim nodded and looked from the waveform of the signal to the star chart. "Let's wait until we have some idea of what it says. Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Sir." Uhura turned back to her station. Jim took up a tablet that had been resting on the console and, gesturing at the probe readouts, asked Spock, "Everything okay with your protostar?"

"Yes, Captain. All of the devices are en route to their orbit and appear to be functioning optimally."

"Good." Jim turned the tablet over in his hands. "Let me know if anything interesting turns up."

"Certainly."

* * *

As the hours of their shift slipped by, it became apparent to Spock that Jim was preoccupied. He had a manner he adopted when he couldn't stop thinking about something, and though he would often work through such situations, it was plain (to Spock) when he was doing so just for a distraction from what was really on his mind.

It was, therefor, not a surprise that Jim was out of the chair on the instant when Uhura said, "Captain. I have some results on that transmission," and gesturing for Spock to join him.

Uhura's display showed two sets of information: one a sparse collection of the output from decryption processes and language filtering runs; the other a set of graphs, charts, and tables linked to an amazingly complex data structure. "I have a complete translation of the first segment," she said, and brought up the message with a tap. There were several versions based on which of Uhura's settings were used, and all of them amounted to the same thing.

"A distress call," Jim said.

Spock scanned the phrases. "It would appear that is the case."

"What's in the other layer, then? Some sort of video or audio message?"

Uhura shook her head. "The other layer is some kind of data protocol, sir. The payload on it is enormous. It's," she hesitated, her expression tightening, then continued, "similar to how the Praxidi Pilots communicate with one another on their private channel. Computer Engineering's trying to reverse engineer it."

Jim didn't react to Uhura's description beyond a nod, and Spock had the distinct impression he'd been expecting her to say exactly that. Jim raised his eyebrows at Spock, clearly waiting for an assessment.

Anything involving the Praxidi was complicated. Interaction with them had started off rather poorly, with the captain being on the receiving end of their less-than-humane tendencies when it came to biotechnology. Despite minor improvements in their relationship since that first encounter, they had no reason to believe it had been atypical of the Praxidi's dealings with others, so at least one truly problematic possibility sprang to mind.

"Could this be a trap set by enemies of the Praxidi?"

"That's what I was thinking." Jim's eyes moved back down at the message. "On the other hand, if it's coming from a neutron star system, that seems like a bad place to stage an ambush."

"Indeed. Interference from the star and its surrounding nebula would confuse their sensors as much as their intended victims', and make targeting weapons and warp jumps difficult. Unless, of course, they have found a way to address these issues, which is possible. The Praxidi's enemies are nearly as technologically advanced as they are."

Jim made a low sound of discontent and folded his arms. He asked Uhura, "Did Computer Engineering say how long it would take them to get anything out of the second layer?"

"They said it might take a few days, sir, unless they catch a lucky break."

"Okay." They waited in silence while Jim stared at the results and fidgeted. "When we're done here we'll go check it out. Maybe by then we'll know what's in that payload."

It was a reasonable enough plan that would give Spock time to consider the situation they might be warping into. "Yes, Captain."

Once Jim had returned to the chair, Spock noticed Uhura was giving him a steady, significant look. He thought he could be reasonably certain what her concerns were, and acknowledged them a minute nod before returning to his own station to work.


	2. Chapter 2

Jim didn't let the signal interfere with his duties over the following three days, thus Spock thought it prudent to let the topic lie until they were ready to warp to the binary system. On their third evening at the molecular cloud, Uhura expressed regret that she'd made a comparison to anything Praxidian, because she knew all too well how touchy a subject they were around the captain. Spock assured her that she'd been right to do so, because the last thing they wanted or needed was to stumble into the Praxidi (or anything related to them) unprepared. He also explained that he had no intention of letting anything untoward come of their investigation, and pointed out that he could rely on Dr. McCoy to help him in that regard. This earned him a wry laugh and a kiss.

They set out for the signal's source at the start of the following alpha shift. The system components were mismatched in a peculiar way, with one extraordinarily weaker than the other, something almost every chart made a note of. No one had ever come this far out to look at them, and between that and the peculiar nature of the signal that had drawn them to the system, they had no good ideas of what to expect. Accordingly, Jim instructed Sulu to bring them out of warp a healthy distance from the larger component with their shields up.

They'd examined two pulsars in the last eight months, so the sight that greeted them on the viewscreen was familiar: a tiny, dim star with a dark, cracked crust through which white-orange light bled out in wild patterns as it revolved. Unlike their previous finds, this one didn't pulse, and it was spinning far slower than they had (which was still a dizzying revolution every second).

Chekov's eyes widened at the initial scans as they came in. "Captain, the star's field strength is over a thousand times stronger than the other neutron stars we have recorded." He tapped at his console, and a map of the magnetic fields overlaid their view. "I think-I think this may be a magnetar, sir."

Jim drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Are we safe at this distance?"

Sulu said, "We should be, Captain, but it wouldn't hurt to reconfigure the scanners and check the star's surface for stress levels. With these kind of readings, it could be in danger of a surface quake."

"Do it. Kirk to Engineering."

"Here, Captain."

"Mr. Scott, this neutron star's a little different than the last two. Chekov thinks it might be a magnetar."

"Oh isn't that lovely." Spock heard a distinct note of sarcasm in Mr. Scott's voice. "We'll start some diagnostics, but nothing looks out of sorts at the moment."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott."

Spock narrowed his eyes at the viewscreen's display. "Mr. Chekov, where is the second component?"

Chekov panned and zoomed on his console. "I'm...not sure, sir. It should be right here."

While Chekov attempted to locate the other star, Spock watched the movements of the magnetic fields. "There is something compressing the field along one side."

"Oh, yes, I see it, Commander. One moment." Chekov adjusted the long-range scanners, and the viewscreen pulled back from the magnetar. As it did so, a second set of magnetic field lines drew in. They were minuscule compared to the star's, and they tracked the path of a flickering object orbiting it about half of the way in from the _Enterprise_'s position.

"Is that the other star?" Sulu asked, peering down at his display.

Jim was staring hard at the object. "Zoom in on it. As far as we can."

"Yes, Captain." The viewscreen adjusted a handful of times before it began to fully resolve, though by the third pass it was obvious what they were seeing.

"A station," Sulu murmured, and it was like no space station Spock had ever seen.

The structure was composed of an inward-curved ring, measuring seven kilometers across and one kilometer deep, encircling an elaborate, spherical cage structure about the size of the _Enterprise_. The cage held a brilliant light source that flared red and white in a consistent pattern which suggested it might be rotating, and was anchored to the ring via a set of flat spokes that ran from its equator to the ring's inner backbone. Various structures lined the ring's arced interior (Spock was reasonably certain they were all buildings), and the facility was constructed of a charcoal gray material that made it hard to distinguish from the darkness of space save for the flashes from the object at the center and small, scattered light sources on the structures.

Chekov frowned. "At that proximity nothing should be able to function or survive. The star's magnetic field would disrupt everything. How is it even there?"

Sulu pulled up an enhanced display of their meager information; the magnetar was throwing the scanners off in all kinds of ways. "Look at this." The viewscreen drew a toroid graphic around the station, with the flaring light source in the empty center and the borders just touching the edges of the station's magnetic field. "This could be some kind of shielding system. See how the star's magnetic field distorts the shape?"

One of Jim's hands formed a fist. "Sulu, how long will it take us to reconfigure the scanners so we can get better data?"

"If you can spare someone from the physics lab I think we can work something out in under an hour, Captain."

"Talk to Marcus. I want as much on that thing as possible. Uhura, what do you have for us?"

Uhura had been adjusting the communications array at a furious pace since they dropped out of warp. She grimaced at something and swept at her console. "I'll need to run some tests to be sure the new settings are accurate, sir, but it looks like the signal is coming from that station."

"Try hailing them. Make sure to send the part of the distress call we decrypted."

"Yes sir."

Jim turned to Spock. "Could that station be what everyone's always assumed was another component?"

"It is a possibility, though that would indicate the facility is at least several thousand years old."

Jim folded his arms. "And in that case, who exactly is it that's calling for help." He was quiet for a brief time, then said, "Work with Chekov and see if you can get confirmation on the other component. The last thing I want is for us to blunder into it if anything happens and we have to get out of here."

"Yes, Captain." Spock went back to his station. In his peripheral vision he saw Jim take up a tablet and settle into the chair, his expression unreadable.

* * *

Four hours proved more than enough time to make some startling revelations, thanks to Marcus and Sulu's hard work recalibrating the sensors and Spock and Chekov's examination of the results. It was good they had something to report, because despite Jim's outwardly calm demeanor, Spock could see the lack of response to their hails was frustrating him.

"We believe the light source at the center of that facility is what has until now been assumed to the second component of the star system," Spock said. As he spoke, Chekov pulled up a variety of statistics and tables. "Our new data are consistent with those from a variety of Federation observatories. We have searched for other candidate bodies that could be an appropriate distance and still qualify as the lesser component, but none have been found. This gives the station an approximate age of seven thousand years, based on the earliest known measurements of this system."

Jim watched the figures as they played out on the viewscreen. "What's the light source made of, then?"

"Unfortunately at this range we cannot take accurate enough scans to determine its composition. It produces a great deal of interference, in addition to the interference already produced by the magnetar. We may obtain better results with probes."

Jim nodded. "Is it providing the facility with power?"

"The spokes attaching the enclosing structure to the facility do appear to carry energy from it to the various sections. That it is powering facility seems to be a reasonable assumption."

"What about the station itself?"

Sulu said, "The materials lab has never seen anything like it. It's definitely a metal-ceramic composite, and the preliminary results suggest it might be resistant to temperatures up to 10,000 Kelvin."

Jim made a low sound. "I guess that might explain how it's sitting this close to a neutron star. Thank you, Mr. Sulu, let me know when they have more."

"Aye, sir."

"Uhura. Any updates from Engineering on the data payload in the signal?"

"Nothing yet, sir."

Jim's eyes narrowed as he watched the viewscreen's display of the station tracking along its orbit. After several seconds of observational silence, he said, "Thank you, Lieutenant," got up, and walked to Spock's station.

By the look on Jim's face, Spock knew the next thing he said was going to be contentious, and braced himself.

Jim pitched his voice so that it wouldn't carry. "There's at least one thing we could try."

It took Spock a moment to catch on, and then he found himself considering the idea with all due seriousness. He gave himself time to think it over, and Jim waited, uncharacteristically still and silent.

The captain was referring to the contents of a small, flat, copper and blue-black box he'd received from a Praxidi messenger some months ago, and although the chance it might work was low, Spock couldn't deny it was worth examination.

Only he and McCoy had seen the device contained in the box. McCoy had recommended the captain throw it out an airlock as soon as the messenger had departed; Spock had suggested he set it aside, maybe in a storage closet that was out of the way.

Jim had simply nodded at them, saying nothing. The box was now sitting on the desk in his quarters, and Spock was reasonably sure it had remained unopened and untouched since Jim had first received it.

Spock said, "There is the possibility it will only serve to attract their attention, Captain."

"You heard what Uhura said about the signal. If they've picked it up, I promise you, they're on their way here, right now, at maximum warp. The least we can do is try to figure out what's in that data layer before they get here."

"To give us an advantage in our interaction once they arrive?"

"Or to warn them if it's not what it looks like."

If it had been any other race, Spock might have found the captain's intent laudable. "We cannot be entirely certain of the Praxidi's intentions, despite our most recent meeting with them, as it regards a situation such as this."

Jim ducked his head. "No one knows that better than me, Spock. But the longer we sit here waiting the closer they're getting."

"Any success in this endeavor should not come at additional personal expense to you, Captain. Physical or otherwise."

Jim gave Spock a small smile. "I'll try to let someone else pick up the rest of the tab. This part may have to be mine."

Spock resolved himself to holding Jim to that, and nodded. Jim moved away from Spock's station.

"Kirk to Professor Riley."

"Riley here."

"Professor. Do you have a minute?"

"I do, Captain."

"We'll be right down." Jim made for the turbolift. "Mr. Spock, if you could please accompany me. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

"Yes sir."

Spock had never told Uhura about the device (that was Jim's to tell), but she'd been present for the meeting with the Praxidi messenger, and more than anyone else she'd been a witness to the captain's perilous interactions with them. Thus, Spock was unsurprised when she gave him a critical look just as the turbolift doors shut.


	3. Chapter 3

They made two detours: one to med bay to fetch Dr. McCoy, and one to Jim's quarters for the box. As soon as McCoy saw it he rolled his eyes and gave them both an irritated look, but otherwise said nothing. Within a few minutes they were in the biotechnology laboratory with the box sitting on a lab bench in front of Professor Kevin Riley.

The professor was a tall, lean man, with black skin and thick strands of wiry, black hair held back in a simple queue that just reached his shoulders. Despite being the same age as the captain, he was considered one of the foremost researchers in his field, and of all of them he had the most experience studying Praxidi technology.

"Are you sure about this?" Dr. Riley's eyes searched the captain's face, maybe for some kind of tell.

For a moment, Jim stared at the box, and Spock thought he was going to say no. Then he gave his head a shake and his eyes met Dr. Riley's. "Yes."

Dr. Riley seemed unconvinced. He asked McCoy, "Is there any reason we shouldn't as far as you can see?" and extended the question to Spock with a glance.

McCoy was much calmer than Spock had expected him to be. It was possible Jim had spoken to him at some point between when he'd received the gift to now; it would certainly explain the glaring absence of any strong objections from him. "Well, I still think he should throw the damned thing away and not return any calls from these guys ever again." His tone was sharp, though not outright hostile. "But physically, he's as healthy as he's ever been, and he'd be here, where I can keep a close eye on him and intervene when I need to, with you all to back me up. That's a big improvement over last time, let me tell you."

Thanks flickered in Jim's eyes, brief but intense, and McCoy grunted and folded his arms. They all looked at Spock, now.

Spock thought over the box's contents and their potential for success or disaster. "Although it is uncertain that the device can decode the signal, the possibility is worth investigating. At the very least, the captain may be able to tell us if the Praxidi are already en route, and if so, how soon we can expect them." When he looked at the captain, he saw that same thanks directed at him.

Dr. Riley ran a hand over his hair in what Spock knew was a nervous gesture. "Alright. At least it's not an entire ship this time." With a last look at all of them, he let out a heavy breath and opened the box.

Inside was a a neck piece, the sort meant to lie flat along the body, made of woven metal links the same copper and blue-black colors as the box itself. It was reversed from the usual style: the front was a simple band no more than an inch wide which would lie along the ridge of the clavicle, while the back was an oval that rose along the neck like a narrow shirt collar and dropped a good four inches to cover a portion of the spinal ridge. The only irregularities in the complex pattern formed by the different colors were two flat, black disks the size of a thumbnail, one on each side of the band in line with the shoulder.

"I'm guessing one of these is for power," Dr. Riley said, peering at them. "Not sure what the other would do."

"Probably for syncing up to a ship's communications array. It's not going to be able to broadcast and receive on its own."

"Right," Kevin said. He gestured at one of the exam tables. "Have a seat, then."

Jim sat on the table, slipping out of his tunic and undershirt as he did so. McCoy took them, commenting, "You know if you put it on over these, it'll be easier to take it off."

"You mean it'll be easier for _you_ to take it off when you want to?"

"When I _need_ to."

Spock moved to assist the professor with the neck piece. After some consideration, they determined how to unhook it (the seam was at the front and difficult to see), then carefully laid it in place. As with the suits they'd handled previously, the metal wasn't cold, and Jim took deep and even breaths as Dr. Riley smoothed it down and McCoy scanned him with a tricorder. When he was satisfied, Dr. Riley straightened and moved to Jim's left.

"Alright. Ready?"

"Yeah."

He reached over and tapped one of the small black disks. When nothing happened, he tried the other. Spock thought he heard the barest flicker of sound, like tiny pieces of metal in motion, and the captain's jaw clenched. McCoy's tricorder chirped.

"You okay?" His brows gathered dangerously as he looked up from the readings.

"Yeah." Jim made a visible effort to relax, then reached for his undershirt. "Okay. It's hooked up."

Spock watched McCoy, who was scowling at his tablet. His expression eased and he admitted, "His vitals are fine."

Jim slipped back into his undershirt; as he moved, it was apparent the entire neck piece was anchored and in no danger of shifting or coming loose. McCoy offloaded his tricorder's results to Dr. Riley's wall display, and a graphic showing the device's filament placement drew in. There were over two hundred anchor points, including a dozen in the front that went in at the shoulders.

"Well. No danger of me just deciding to yank it off," McCoy muttered. Jim, who had stood from the table and was now behind McCoy, rolled his eyes. Spock joined Dr. Riley in examining the display more closely.

"These look even thinner than the last set. I wonder if the material's the same." Dr. Riley looked back over his shoulder at Jim. "I don't suppose you could get another one of these from them? Maybe, tell them you lost this one, something like that?"

Jim gave Dr. Riley an exasperated look, and the professor held up a hand to ward off any rebukes. "Sorry, just checking."

Spock left off his examination of the device's connections. "I would recommend we attempt to decode the signal from here, where Drs. Riley and McCoy will have access to any necessary equipment."

Jim nodded in agreement. "Kirk to Lieutenant Uhura."

"Uhura here, sir."

"You're going to see a new connection on the communications network in a second. I need you to patch it into the subspace array with my access level."

"Yes sir."

Jim's eyes focused on some distant point. "Okay. It's syncing up with the array." He squinted. "I think it's running a diagnostic."

McCoy grunted and went back to his tablet. "Well, at least it's thorough."

Dr. Riley took the opportunity to resume studying McCoy's readings, and the two began to discuss them. Spock moved to stand next to the captain.

"It is not otherwise uncomfortable?" he asked. Jim shook his head.

"No, aside from having to keep track of what it's doing, it's like it's not even there." Jim winced at something. "Okay, that was a little loud. Need to change that setting."

"Are you experiencing the device's output as sound?"

"Ah, no, it's all," Jim tapped at one temple, "but it-_felt_ loud."

Spock wondered how much like his telepathy the device was, and made a mental note to examine the filament anchors more closely during his next shift. McCoy and Riley's low-voiced conversation was the only sound for another few minutes until Jim said, "There. Kirk to Uhura."

"Yes, Captain."

"Patch in the distress signal."

"Patching it in now, sir."

Jim took a deep breath and let it out. "Here we go," he said, briefly meeting Spock's eyes before his gaze shifted out across the room and his features stilled.

* * *

Jim listened for the distress signal in the way he remembered listening to the Pilot of the _Shadow Upon the Sand_. There was a technique to it that he didn't know very well; he'd only ever heard one Pilot, after all, and that one had reached out to him first. For a moment there was nothing on the channel but himself, and he thought they'd been wrong and the device wasn't going to work, either due to his own lack of practice or a simple incompatibility somewhere along the line.

Then a tidal wave of information and emotion and thought slammed into him and swallowed him whole.

Vertigo overwhelmed him, and he staggered back into something hard. The impact seemed to jar him out of his own body, and Spock said his name from what felt like a million miles away.

_Do you see?_

The cry echoed around him. The distress signal was different than the connection with the Pilot had been, more powerful and direct and far less concerned with whether or not he could handle it. It was dragging him under and drowning him in fear and rage and hopelessness and pain, excruciating pain that went on and on-

Something grabbed hold of him, now two somethings, now several, and they hauled him out of the suffocating nightmare to the surface. The current was still strong, but with their help he found he could at least keep his head above the turbulent waters. Their concern was like delicate fingers on his face, and he realized they were all Praxidi Pilots.

He assured them he was alright, thanks to them, and wondered how they'd heard him and where they were, but his questions were lost in the maelstrom raging around them. They kept a tight grip on him, because this was not a signal designed for use with something so simple as the neck piece; it was almost difficult to handle with the ships, though a dozen of them (a dozen, could there be that many of them so close?) distributing the load made it manageable.

They drifted in the wild ocean like a loose flotilla of survivors. All around them the voice cried out.

_Do you see?_

The device twinged in some way that made him wince, and the tone of the signal changed; it was pleading now. Imagery washed over them, and they stared in horror and shock at the sights. A prison loomed in their minds-no, nothing that simple; there were instruments and computers and machinery and containers and chemical and samples. _A laboratory_, and the distress call was the voice of the experimental subjects, crying out for help. The researchers were relentless; they didn't seem to even notice the subjects' cries, didn't evidence a single bit of remorse for their suffering. All they cared about was the knowledge they sought, some long-buried secret, and the subjects were the key to finding it. They did horrible things, and the subjects were powerless to stop it.

_Do you see?_

The Pilots cried out, furious, and his voice was among them. They told them that they could see and hear it all.

_Help us_. The subjects had spent hundreds of years devising and securing a way to contact someone, anyone, outside, and finally, someone had heard them. They were all going to die if the Pilots didn't do something.

They told them they would help, that they would find a way. The subjects' insistence intensified, and the Pilots struggled to keep their connection intact as it dragged them all down.

_Help us._

The Pilots promised to to bring help. The voices of every Pilot from the beginning of the First Unconverted until now echoed within that promise like a choir.

He could feel himself being torn away from the Pilots' connection. The choir became a roaring surf that became thunder, and that became his own heartbeat in his ears.

_Help us. Help us. Hel-_


	4. Chapter 4

Jim blinked and found himself still in the biotechnology lab. He was sitting on the exam table, Kevin scanning him with a tricorder while McCoy reached for him with a small, circular instrument, and Spock watched with hard eyes that belied his externally patient demeanor.

Jim put a hand up to block McCoy's device. "It's okay, I'm okay," he said between short breaths. Kevin heaved a sigh of relief, and Spock seemed to relax. McCoy, however, looked skeptical.

"You actually expect me to believe that?"

"That was quite a scare you gave us, Jim," Kevin said. He sounded every inch a medical doctor. "Your heart rate was over 120, and I've never seen neurokinetics like that before, even when you were in the suits."

Jim kept his breaths deep and measured. "Really, I'm okay. I just wasn't expecting-that." He wasn't, despite his own reassurances, sure he could stand, so he stayed sitting.

Kevin straightened and sent his readings to the wall. He and McCoy gave them a once over, then exchanged a look. McCoy shrugged at Spock and stepped back from Jim.

Spock asked, "You are referring to the contents of the signal?"

"Yeah." Jim ran a rand through his hair and wished the mere thought of the message didn't make him break out in a sweat. "It's a distress call alright. There's beings on the station. They say they're being experimented on."

McCoy's features clouded. Kevin came back around so he could look at Jim.

"You mean like you were?"

_Do you see?_

A cold wave swept up from Jim's stomach to his neck, and his vision went white. He shoved his head between his knees and clung to consciousness. Things happened that he was only half aware of: McCoy cursed, someone moved forward and laid a cool hand along the side of his neck, and a small and metallic object-McCoy's CNS monitoring device, no doubt-pressed against one temple. He also thought he heard a tricorder beeping.

Kevin's voice lead him back to reality. "Easy there, Jim. Whatever that signal was, it was definitely a bit much for you." After a more authoritative noise from the tricorder, he added, "Looks like his blood pressure bottomed out. It's coming back up."

"Neurokinetics are stabilizing too. Spock, a cup of water please."

Jim thought about breathing and how great it was while Spock left and returned and the two doctors conferred about neurological after-effects and what they might mean. Eventually Kevin urged him to sit up, and Spock placed a cup in his hand. He drank almost half of it in one go, then held the cup against his forehead.

McCoy's tone was acerbic in the extreme. "What was that about being okay?"

Jim blew out a short breath. "Yeah, that could stand to not happen anymore."

"So will you let me take this stupid thing off?"

"No. We're going to have company, and I want to keep tabs on them."

McCoy grimaced, and Spock asked, "The Praxidi Pilots heard the signal as well?"

"I wouldn't have been able to handle it if the Pilots hadn't joined in. It was-way too much for me." Jim rubbed at his eyes and drank the rest of the water. "There was maybe a dozen of them. Not sure if they'll all show up, though. I lost them at the end, and I'm not connected right now."

"Is there anything else about the signal you can tell us, Captain?"

"Assuming it's real, the beings on the station need help. What's happening to them is bad. But I don't think we'll be able to confirm it without the Praxidians."

"Maybe we should just let them deal with it, and get out of here," McCoy suggested.

Jim sat up and fought his reaction back from something ridiculous to a fierce, "_No_," that made McCoy jerk back and had Spock giving him a critical look. Kevin looked unsurprised, and simply watched and waited.

McCoy's jaw set. "Look, you just about passed out from listening to a recording from these guys, and that was _with_ a dozen Praxidians helping you. Way I see it, this sounds like it's right up their alley, and we don't need to get involved."

Jim felt himself gearing up to saying something regrettable, and it must have been visible on his face, because Spock intervened. "Dr. McCoy's point is entirely valid, Captain. This may be a situation best left to more capable hands."

Jim grappled with two instincts, one which was still hearing the experimental subjects' pleas, and another that was wary of risking the crew on something they knew so little about. He glanced at Kevin, who fidgeted and said, "We have to be careful, Jim. Neither the Praxidi nor these beings may necessarily have our best interests in mind."

_Listen to what they're saying._

Jim waited until he no longer felt like his decision would be fueled by adrenaline and panic and the sound of his own voice at the bottom of an ocean. "I want to know if this is real or some kind of trap. If we have to sit back and let the Praxidi deal with it, then we do. But we are not, just leaving."

McCoy scowled and looked at Spock, who in turn watched Jim for several seconds before nodding his agreement. McCoy's expression became resigned, and he made a low, annoyed sound. Kevin nodded with equanimity.

Spock asked, "Your orders?"

"Let's see if we can get some probes closer to the station. I know that's not going to be easy, but I want some readings on that power source, and an idea of how many life forms are inside, and what kinds." Jim made a face. "And I'll start listening for any new arrivals."

"Do you know if they were already on their way?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't think so. They didn't show up until I started listening to it." He frowned, realizing that could mean Spock's earlier conjecture-that using the device might only attract the Praxidi's attention-was probably correct.

"Assuming they have only just heard the signal, how soon can we expect them?"

"I'd give it five hours, tops. Three, if they were close when they heard it."

"I believe, with help from Dr. Marcus and Mr. Scott, we should be able to retrofit a handful of the probes in that time frame."

"Okay." Jim stood, and when he didn't wobble too much, raised his eyebrows at Kevin and McCoy. They looked at one another, then McCoy jerked his head towards the turbolift.

"Try not to pass out and hit your head on anything."

"I'm sure Mr. Spock will catch me if I swoon."

Spock didn't bother to confirm nor deny such a possibility. Jim gave the three of them a determined smile, then made for the turbolift, pulling on his tunic as he went, with Spock following behind him.

"If I could get a full report on what it's like to use the device, Captain, I'd appreciate it," Kevin called after them, sounding hopeful.

"I'll be sure to, Professor," Jim said over his shoulder.

* * *

The turbolift ride back up to the bridge was silent, with Jim's attention focused inward and Spock reluctant to intrude. Just before the doors opened, Jim said, "Let me know when the probes are ready to launch," and only waited long enough for Spock to nod before going to sit in the chair. Spock went to his station under Uhura's watchful eyes, and reminded himself that he owed her as good an explanation as he could give when next they were in private.

Dr. Marcus, Scott, and Sulu retrofitted the probes much quicker than Spock had anticipated, so they were able to launch them in under two hours. They had just completed their first pass when Jim related to Sulu and Spock that there were three Praxidi ships approaching, and one of them was a warship, so it would undoubtedly arrive first.

Spock saw Sulu glance at the gleaming collar of the device before saying, "Understood, sir."

An hour later they were going over the results, with Chekov and Spock explaining the various highlights by turns, when Jim's attention slid away from either of them and to a random point on the floor. Chekov stopped, his eyes wide, and Spock tilted his head.

"Captain?"

Jim looked back up at Spock. "They're here."

Sulu's station pinged for their attention. His voice was calm as he said, "I have an inbound warp signature, Captain. Praxidian-type."

"Thank you Mr. Sulu. Mr. Spock, Mr. Chekov, we'll finish this shortly."

"Yes sir," Chekov said. He swept the probe results to the side, and Spock went back to his station.

The vessel that warped into the system was similar, in passing, to the last Praxidi warship they'd seen, if larger and with different markings. The orange-white light of the magnetar cast harsh shadows across the complex mix of hard planes and broad curves of its red and black hull, which made it look more menacing than it might have otherwise.

"They have their shields up, sir, but I'm not detecting any weapons armed," Sulu reported. "They're scanning the station."

Jim watched the viewscreen, more unreadable than Spock had ever seen him. The seconds stretched on until Uhura said, "Captain, they're hailing us."

"On screen."

Spock recognized one of the two Praxidi that appeared on the screen, and he saw recognition lighten Jim and Uhura's features as well. The familiar individual had dark rusty purple chitin and shoulder-length nerve bundles, and was seated in what seemed to be analogous to a captain's chair. The other Praxidi stood to the side, and was black mottled with dark orange. Behind them, the wide, arced bridge spread out in pale gray and black, with numerous crew members seated at stations in front of wide expanses of dark display glass. They all wore the same simple, form fitting outfits in gray woven textile, though the central figure's was adorned with a single red mark on the left shoulder.

The central Praxidi dipped their head in a greeting. "Captain Kirk. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance once more. May I introduce myself to your crew as Captain Ulila of the Praxidi Starship _Waterbourne_." Their voice came across as lilting, almost musical through the translation filter, and Spock wondered if the Praxidi had been making improvements to it in the past year.

Jim actually smiled. "Captain. Congratulations on your ship."

"My thanks go to you, Captain Kirk, as my promotion, in part, was due to the recovery of the _Twilight's Shining Teeth_." They made a fluid gesture whose significance Spock could only guess at. "Three more of our vessels will arrive in a short time. They have already been instructed to alert your ship before they warp into the system."

"Thank you, we'll keep an eye out for them."

"We will now scout the immediate area. I will ask the Captains of the other ships to coordinate an examination of the facility, should you wish it."

Spock saw something flash in Jim's eyes. After a moment, he said, "Absolutely," and Spock resigned himself to breaking the news to Dr. McCoy.

"We will report our findings in due course. Until then." Captain Ulila dipped their head, and the viewscreen of the alien bridge winked out. The red and black ship lifted away and sped out towards the edge of the wispy nebula that surrounded the system.

Jim tapped at the arm of his chair, eyes moving about the bridge as he thought. "I'm pretty sure she knows what that thing is. Or has an idea."

"Was she not the General's assistant in our last encounter, Captain?"

"Yeah. I guess that business worked out pretty well for her." Jim looked back over his shoulder at Uhura. "Did they make changes to the translation software?"

"She sounded different, Captain, but I think the text is still coming through the same. They might have made some audio improvements. I'll analyze the transmissions." Uhura paused before adding, "They may have taken readings from your previous times in their ships, sir, and used them to better process the output for our hearing." Her expression suggested that wasn't the _only_ thing they could have done with that kind of data.

"Right." Jim sounded like he understood what she was suggesting, loud and clear. He settled back in the chair. "The other three ships will be here in an hour. Then we'll see how they want to do this."

Spock quelled a thread of disquiet that tried to wrap around his thoughts, and at a look from Jim, he and Chekov resumed their explanation of the probes' findings.


	5. Chapter 5

None of the additional ships were warships, which eased Spock's concerns about military buildups or related posturing. Captain Ulila set the _Waterbourne_ to patrolling the orbit of the station at the limits of their sensor range once their initial scouting pass was completed, and the other three vessels took up positions near the _Enterprise_.

These other ships were, according to Jim, two more exploration vessels, both roughly the size of the _Enterprise_ and of the same black, long-bodied configuration Spock knew from prior encounters, and a smaller, multi-purpose ship intended for use where its larger cousins were at a disadvantage. That one was maybe a fifth the size of the rest, with a trim, curved, stretched-diamond shape in charcoal gray and green. This smaller ship launched a blue-black shuttle minutes after arriving, and the captain made arrangements for it to land in the hangar bay. He left the conn to Sulu, and took Spock with him down to greet the Praxidi's liaison.

"They said he's an expert on this kind of thing," Jim explained once they were in the turbolift. "I suspect he'll be running their end of the show, in terms of actually deciding what they do."

Spock absorbed the numerous unvoiced aspects of what Jim said: Captain Ulila was not in charge, and for the Praxidi to have an expert meant- "They have encountered structures like this before?"

"I got that impression from the Pilots, but I don't think the previous finds were still functional, much less inhabited."

The lift doors opened and they stepped out into the hangar. The Praxidi shuttle's arcing lines and dark color were a stark contrast to the angular, gray and white shapes of the _Enterprise_'s counterparts. The single figure standing next to it was equally striking: they were a little shorter than Spock, and had pale blue chitin, glittering black exoskeletal augmentations, and dark red eyes. Their nerve bundles were short and thick, and only brushed the base of their neck, and the shirt of their simple outfit was edged in elaborate, silver scroll work.

When Jim and Spock came to a stop, the Praxidi bowed and made a complex, almost dance-like gesture with their hands, then straightened.

"Greetings, Captain Kirk, Commander Spock. I am Master Arkoryx of the Explorers' Guild." Their voice was a light alto, with a more clipped pronunciation than Captain Ulila had used. Spock wondered if the difference represented some form of accent.

Jim dipped his head to return the greeting, and Spock followed suit, then asked, "Might I inquire as to what you are a Master of?"

"Celestial Archeology, Commander." Spock tilted his head, and Arkoryx explained, "Our people divide their exploration of space into very specific segments, so as to focus our energies in the most efficient manner possible. I specialize in phenomena and races that have only left remnants of past existence."

"Quite intriguing." Spock was considering which of his myriad questions to ask when Jim cut in.

"How about we take Arkoryx to your lab, Spock, so you can go over all the data we've gathered with him." He gave Spock a look that made his intent-getting down to business-quite plain.

Spock tacked another question onto his growing list: how the captain could identify Praxidi gender. "Of course, Captain. Master Arkoryx, if you would follow me."

"Thank you, Commander, it would be my pleasure."

* * *

Spock had set aside one wall display for working on all data pertaining to the magnetar and its orbiting station, and when they arrived, Mr. Scott was muttering to himself and shoving equations and data tables around. He glanced over his shoulder as they approached, then turned to face them when his eyes landed on Arkoryx.

"Captain, Commander. I was just going over the probe data, trying to square it with how that station's fancy shield works." He hesitated, glancing from the captain to Arkoryx, and Jim waved between them.

"Scotty, this is Master Arkoryx. Arkoryx, this is Mr. Scott, our Chief Engineer."

"It is always an honor to meet the ship's Master Engineer," Arkoryx said, dipping his head. Scott flushed and returned the gesture.

"Ah, right, and it's an honor to meet you too."

Scott's unease at Arkoryx's presence was obvious to Spock, so he sought to distract him. "Mr. Scott, if you could please describe the current status of your findings."

"Sure, sure." Scott dragged down a detailed diagram of the station, and as he began to talk, he relaxed. "The shield's being projected by these pylons," he tapped above and below the center cage at two sets of prongs that ringed either end, "on that structure in the center, and the magnetic fields off the power source are holding it in place. Marcus is still crunching the numbers, but she'll have a basic idea of the specifics soon." He put his hands on his hips and nodded at the cage. "It's not a surprise all the telescopes thought it was a neutron star-it's behaving a lot like one, and the probes sure think it is."

Arkoryx considered the data and the schematic. "Perhaps, Engineer Scott, that is because it is one."

Jim looked to Spock, and Spock thought over the idea. Scott, on the other hand, scoffed.

"A neutron star isn't like some lump of dilithium you can just pick up and, and cart to your space station and stick in the furnace. It's a star, for Christ's sake." Arkoryx regarded him placidly, and Scott grew only more flustered. "Are you telling me whoever made this built it _around_ a neutron star?"

"Given the readings from your ship and ours, it would appear that is, at the least, a possibility to consider."

"Assuming the race was advanced enough, they could have used some of the star's initial mass as material to build the station," Spock added.

Scott grunted, and though he didn't look convinced, said, "Well, whoever they were, I don't know that I'd want to meet them. A race has to be downright crazy to do a thing like that."

"It is unlikely that will occur, Engineer Scott."

Jim frowned. "So you don't think the beings on the station are the creators?"

"No, Captain Kirk. Given the contents of the distress call, your data, and our previous findings, I do not believe that to be the case."

Spock was not surprised when Jim sprang at the opening. "So this isn't the first one of these you've found."

"No," Arkoryx confirmed. Mr. Scott muttered, "Fantastic," under his breath, and Arkoryx continued. "Certainly it is the most advanced, and the first that is still functional and has living beings still within it. We will have to update our measure of its creators' technological skill level several orders of magnitude."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "And who would those creators be?"

Arkoryx's nerve bundles shifted. "We have no name for them beyond the First, because we believe they may very well be one of the earliest space-faring races or groups thereof, if not that which their name would imply. Therefor it would be presumptuous to call them otherwise."

"And you believe them to be gone?"

"Gone would be the most accurate description, Commander. Though it is possible they are all dead, it is equally likely they simply left this galaxy for another-in fact, they may not have been from our galaxy to begin with. The knowledge required to construct a space station of this type which could function for thousands of years without significant failure suggests individuals capable of moving through the universe with ease. Despite all of our findings, we know little of them, yet this much seems certain: whenever they came across something or someone which interested them, they used it to whatever purpose struck their whim."

In his peripheral vision Spock saw Jim swallow, and he suspected more than just the distress call was weighing on the captain's mind. Jim nudged the subject by saying, "And the other structures you found?"

If Arkoryx noticed Jim's reaction, Spock couldn't tell. "In all previous finds, there were only the barest remains of any occupants, all dead for countless Maxima, and the structures were barely intact. They were not functional in any sense. Additionally, they were all orbiting planets, moons, or more conventional stars, and had very mundane power sources."

Spock said, "Regarding the star. All of our data suggests it is a magnetar, and its surface stress is reaching dangerous levels. I estimate the probability of a starquake occurring within the next year to be 96.2%."

"And Chekov has told me several times we don't want to be within fifty light-years when that happens," Scott added.

Arkoryx flicked the fingers of one hand. "Our stellar surveyors have reported similar findings. Certainly, we will need to proceed with caution and haste in equal measure."

"Ah, speaking of proceeding." Scott nodded his head at the data display. "I don't know how much more we'll get from just probes and long-range scans. We're about at the limit of what we can detect without taking readings with more sensitive equipment, and that's not going...to..." Scott's voice died, and Spock followed his gaze to the captain, who was staring across the room. Scott glanced at Spock, concern obvious.

"Captain?" Spock asked, and Jim blinked, though was some time in replying.

"I think they're trying to talk to us."

Scott looked not in the least reassured by that cryptic remark. Arkoryx regarded Jim with what Spock could only assume was intense scrutiny, and Spock found it bothered him more than just a little. (It was one thing for him or Drs. Riley or McCoy to observe the captain's interactions with Praxidian technology, and quite another for a Praxidian to do so.) He resisted the urge to step between Arkoryx and Jim, and instead mustered his patience and asked, "Who, Captain?"

"The inhabitants on the station." Jim grimaced. "They need to learn to work on their volume control."

"Captain, do you mean they have found a way to connect to the Pilots' channel?"

Jim focused on Arkoryx. "No, we were picking up a new signal coming off the station, so the Pilots routed it in."

"And what do the inhabitants of the station say?" Spock asked.

Jim was looking at the floor now. "They're being held captive by a computer," he shook his head, "an artificial intelligence. They've been working on freeing themselves, but it's slow going, because the AI runs most of the station." His features went still with surprise. "Apparently the AI...made them."

Scott's eyes went wide. "_Made_ them?"

"A curious notion," Arkoryx said, and one of his hands fidgeted. "Why would a synthetic, computer intelligence need biological beings?"

"Some of the controls of the station are keyed to the races that built it, so the AI can't control it completely." Jim narrowed his eyes. "It made them in an attempt to get around those lockouts." His expression cleared, and he looked at all of them once again. "The AI connected some of them to the station's network so it could control them, but they figured out how to free themselves and took over the communications array."

Arkoryx gestured at one of the wall displays. "In that case, perhaps we could speak to them through our ships' communications?"

Jim's eyes flicked to one side, and he licked his lips. "Ah, that was definitely a no. They don't want the AI eavesdropping. They're worried it could still find ways to listen in."

Though it was inconvenient to have a communication bottleneck with the captain and the Pilots, Spock also thought it was a reasonable concern. He said, "If they are unwilling to communicate with us directly, it would be prudent of us to find another was to ascertain the veracity of their claims, to whatever extent we can, before deciding on further action."

Jim ran his hands through his hair. "Yeah. I don't know that there's any way we can tell if they're lying to us over the channel."

"Even if there was, Captain, a race created by an advanced artificial intelligence might well be able to circumvent such detection." Arkoryx's fingers worked. "There is one initial test we can perform. Engineer Scott, what would you require to take more sensitive readings?"

"We need to get _to_ the station." Scott pulled up the station diagram on the wall panel. "Thing is, it's clear they didn't expect anyone to land on it-there's not a docking collar or hangar in sight. To say nothing of how they apparently," he gave Arkoryx a dubious look, "built it around a neutron star sitting next to a magnetar. That probably means they transported on and off of it, and _that_ means there's a way through that shield without dropping it, and a receiving pad in there somewhere. Maybe a few of them." Scott looked at the captain, who was staring at the display. They all waited, and their patience was rewarded.

"There's several, but the Inhabitants only have control of one." Satisfaction flickered across his features. "It's the closest one to the computer core, which they also control. They're explaining how it works to the Pilots."

Spock discerned Arkoryx's intention. "We can compare the information they provide to a method we work out separately, and see if they are in agreement."

"Precisely, Commander. It is of course not a full test of their sincerity, but it is a beginning. Captain, if you would allow me some time, I will contact Captain Ulila and discuss some possibilities should the Inhabitants' data prove reliable."

"Like putting a landing party on the station?"

Arkoryx's nerve bundles flicked, and Spock took it to mean 'landing party' had a specific meaning in this case-probably a military meaning. "If we must. There may be alternatives."

Jim gave Arkoryx a long, intense look, then moved towards towards the turbolift. "We'll take you back to your shuttle. Mr. Scott, you should have the Inhabitants' data in a few minutes."

"Aye, Captain."

Spock followed behind Jim and Arkoryx, turning the new development over in his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Carol wasn't sure what to expect when Mr. Scott called her to Commander Spock's laboratory. Ever since they'd put the probes in orbit she'd been neck-deep in working out the properties of the shield surrounding the station, with the occasional break to monitor the warp core and recommend changes to help keep it stable. (She imagined she'd be able to write a paper on warp core interactions with magnetar fields once all was said and done.) Commander Spock was there as well when she arrived, and though he was his usual unflappable self, Scott was a bundle of nervous energy. He only got that way when he thought something interesting and exciting was afoot, and what he thought was interesting or exciting could put gray hairs on Carol's head.

"Commander, Mr. Scott. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Dr. Marcus. We have new information concerning the facility, and I believe it would be beneficial for you to continue your work here, in my laboratory, with Mr. Scott, in light of it. I have asked Lieutenant Chekov to continue monitoring the warp core."

"New information?" Carol glanced from the commander to Scott and back.

"The inhabitants of the station have made contact and given us what they claim to be the specifics of how to transport onto it. We will need you and Mr. Scott to verify their information before we can proceed."

She hadn't dared imagine they might think of sending anyone to the structure at this stage. Carol tried to mask her surprise. "Understood, Commander."

Scott pulled up an array of equations, tables, and schematics on the display, saying, "So, this is what they sent us." It was a very different approach than Carol had been taking, and she would have to redo a good deal of her own calculations to make a proper comparison, though if she was being honest with herself she'd been intending to do that anyways to double-check.

Carol added her current work from her tablet to the display with a gesture. "Right then. Shield first?"

Scott agreed, and they settled in. Sometimes they would sit at the lab bench chairs as they traded ideas or debated principles. The commander watched and listened, only offering a comment now and then.

They had just finished-all of the math lined up, and Carol was pleased to have independent evidence regarding the shield which validated her observations-when the captain's voice interrupted their conversation.

"Kirk to Commander Spock."

"Yes, Captain."

"Arkoryx is ready to talk to us. Can you meet me at his shuttle in the hangar bay?"

"I can, Captain." Before leaving, he said, "Thank you, Dr. Marcus, Mr. Scott. Your work is appreciated. If you would wait here, the captain and I will return with our guest shortly."

Carol and Scott organized everything to make it presentable while they waited for Spock to return with the captain and their guest. As they worked, Scott asked her, "Have you met him yet?"

"The Praxidian?" He nodded, and she shook her head. "What's he like?"

"Well, I don't know a damned thing about them-their body language is nothing like I've seen before-but if the captain and commander's reactions are any indication, he's a complete arse."

Carol blinked. "Oh."

Scott began to elaborate, but the turbolift doors opened, and out stepped the Praxidi guest, the captain, and the commander. The captain kept the introductions brief-Carol wondered at the notion of an 'Explorer's Guild'-and said, "Dr. Marcus, Mr. Scott. What do you have for us?"

Scott gestured for Carol to take the lead, and she walked them through their own data, the information provided by the inhabitants, and their comparisons. Arkoryx asked a number of clarifying questions, and when they were done, laid out his intentions: transporting a small, mobile probe to the station to confirm that the receiving pad was in a safe location and functioning as claimed, then putting a small, five-person landing party on the station.

Jim looked between to Scott and Carol. "If you had help from a Praxidian Engineer, do you think you could alter a transporter to go through that shield?"

Scott shifted. "Transporting from the _Enterprise_, or one of their ships?"

"Both."

Carol saw Arkoryx twitch, and wondered what Jim was planning. Scott looked to her, and after thinking it over, Carol said, "I believe so, Captain."

Jim turned to Arkoryx. "Would your people be amenable to that?"

Arkoryx stared at the captain, and Carol had the distinct impression an entirely separate conversation was happening that no one else in the room could see or hear. Then Arkoryx dipped his head, and said, "Yes, Captain Kirk. I will send for one at once."

* * *

The engineer who arrived was a broad and short Praxidian-she didn't quite reach Scott's shoulders, and was easily twice his width-and her nerve bundles were tightly bound in an elaborate braid that fell half-way down her back. Her chitin and augmentations were a dark brown with a silvery sheen, and Jim introduced her as Oureka, the _Waterbourne_'s 'Master Engineer', which Carol assumed meant she was an equivalent to Scott. She only brought two instruments with her, though from what the captain had said about the Praxidians, she probably had enough augmentations to qualify as a handful of instruments all on her own.

Pairing the transporters to the facility's landing pad was slow going, but the combined group of Carol, Scott, Oureka, and Chekov had prototypes on both the _Enterprise_ and the _Waterbourne_ up and running within a day. Carol felt a palpable thrill of success when a small probe materialized on the facility's landing pad and returned a clear video and audio feed as it began to explore.

"Not bad," Scott said as the captain clapped him on the back and grinned at all of them. "Looks like we can successfully transport to it."

It moved out of a dark, plain room and into a hall, and from there into a much larger, open space. This room was shot through with sporadic lights on consoles, wall panels, and other unrecognizable equipment. Two hulking shapes loomed nearby, and Jim confirmed the readings' indication that these were robot drones under the control of the Inhabitants (as the captain called them). They were bipedal constructs, with arms and legs and something approximating a head, and in poor condition: they sported numerous dents and scratches, and in some places missing panels exposed their underlying circuitry and wiring.

The excitement of their accomplishment faded into the necessity of the next phase: transporting the Praxidian landing party over and seeing what evidence the Inhabitants could provide. They watched the group of five materialize through the probe's feed (Carol thought Scott looked relieved to see living beings make the trip successfully) and begin a path down one of the side corridors out of the large room as directed by the two drones. They came to another large, open room, this one with two wide, clear forcefield doors that deactivated as the drones approached. The Praxidi were slow to enter, and slower still to bring in the probe.

The first handful of images on the video feed were all any of them needed to see. Carol stopped watching as soon as she began to understand it was the remains of a research lab that had been used on large, sentient subjects; enough samples and pieces of equipment were intact to make that clear.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jim, Commander Spock, and Arkoryx continue to watch, but Scott averted his eyes as well, swallowing. "God have mercy," he whispered under his breath. The examination of the room continued for some time, and the commander of the landing party indicated he was sending out their findings to all of the ships.

His eyes still on the gruesome tableau before them, Arkoryx observed, "It would appear the Inhabitants' claims are true."

* * *

Carol was back to monitoring the probes orbiting the star when Commander Spock called her to Transporter Room Two. She arrived to find Lieutenant Gaila from Computer Engineering there, along with Mr. Scott, the captain, Commander Spock himself, the two Praxidi, and a four-man security team that included Lieutenant Hendorff. Oureka stood with Mr. Scott and Gaila, while Arkoryx was next to Jim and Commander Spock.

The captain was staring out across the room with the same distracted expression he had when he was communicating with the Pilots or the Inhabitants. She tried not to let it remind her of the weeks just prior to the Tullianum Nebula incident, because that was not a pleasant memory.

Commander Spock's voice cut into her observations. "Dr. Marcus. Engineer Oureka will be joining you on your mission with Mr. Scott, Lieutenant Gaila, and the security team."

"What's our mission, Commander?"

"We and the Praxidians have agreed to help the individuals being held captive on the facility to overtake it. Currently, we are only able to transport _to_ the facility, because the Inhabitants do not control the station's outbound transporter rooms. You and Mr. Scott will establish a bi-directional transportation system using the landing pad we have already secured. Lieutenant Gaila and Engineer Oureka will be determining a way to grant the Pilots of the Praxidi ships access to the primary software system, so that they may help the Inhabitants override it and disable the AI. In addition, you will all be working on reprogramming the robot drones from the facility to serve as additional security for your efforts."

Carol tried not to feel overwhelmed, but it was difficult. "Understood, sir."

Mr. Scott stepped forward and handed her a tablet. "This is all the data we have from the landing party and our scans. We'll have more once we're over there and can take direct readings."

Jim's expression cleared and he addressed all of them. "The Inhabitants have control of the life support systems on the station. They've also overridden the computer core's security, so those rooms should be the safest place for you to be." He nodded at Hendorff, who led his team onto the transporter pad, and they disappeared in a wash of white light.

"Well then." Mr. Scott stepped up to the transporter pad. Gaila and Oureka flanked him, and Carol placed herself next to Gaila. She swallowed against the fluttering in her stomach.

Jim looked at each of them in turn. "Remember, get the two way transport up first. I don't want anyone stuck over there."

Mr. Scott promised him, "Oh, don't worry, Captain, ensuring we have a way to get the bloody hell back is top priority," and Carol felt reassured by his certainty.

Jim gave them a faint smile. "Good luck."

Mr. Scott grimaced and said, "Here goes nothing." He shook himself out. "Energize."

A glaring brilliance engulfed them, and when it faded they were all standing on a roughly textured surface in a close, dim space. The room was poorly lit, cold, and had empty, dark gray walls and a single door with a small, glassy, black panel set to one side. A yellow, alien script that Carol didn't recognize crawled over the panel, and in the distance a low, humming drone overrode most other sounds, though on occasion she heard shrieking metal.

The security team stood in front of them, two crouched and facing out of the door into a hall while the other two watched the pad; one of these was Hendorff. The two at the door moved aside, and he lead everyone out into the corridor; more control panels dotted the walls, all filled with the same yellow script in harsh counterpoint to the dark gray metal and black glassy panels. The security team kept all of them surrounded as they moved into a wide, open space.

When they crossed the threshold from the hall to the large room, the temperature rose several degrees. This room was much brighter thanks to tracts of overhead lights, and filled with control panels, stations, and displays on all of the walls save for one. On that side a thick, glass-like substance formed a window into a cavernous expanse holding several hundred rectangular towers arranged in a pattern Carol couldn't determine from their viewpoint. Each tower was over three meters tall and another meter wide and deep, and all of them flickered with patterns of blue, green, and red light from layers of thin, white inserts.

Gaila and Carol stopped and stared. Strange, wave-like distortions seemed to ripple through the space between the towers, and Carol realized they were immersed in some form of liquid. She thought she could hear the rush of the fluid cycling by, carrying heat away from the clusters and into whatever served as a cooling system.

"Well now," Mr. Scott said behind them. "Spared no expense on their cluster, I see. Do you think those Pilots of yours can really hack that?"

Oureka had stopped to examine the system as well. "With the help of the Inhabitants, yes."

Carol tried to take reassurance from Oureka's words, but it occurred to her she knew next to nothing about Praxidi vocal inflection, and thus the Engineer could be as scared as she was.

_Stop that, Marcus. Focus._

Mr. Scott moved to a long line of drones that had been propped up at one end of the room and clapped his hands together. "Alright. Gaila, Oureka, get this pile of drones converted, then wire in the Pilots. Marcus, you're with me. I figure we can see if any of these consoles will let us examine how that shield works in more detail, then take it from there."

Carol gripped her tablet. It was time to go to work.


	7. Chapter 7

Carol's uneasiness gave way to the natural rhythm of hard work. Aside from the occasional, distant thump or boom that warned them the Inhabitants and the AI were still warring via robot drones (and who knew what else) over other parts of the station, the only sounds were the distant hum of the stellar core and the closer rush of the computing cluster's cooling system.

They ate while they worked, and only rested for brief intervals, as short as they could while still getting something out of it. During one such break, Gaila asked her, "Is this your first away mission?"

"My first one like this."

"You're good. You should come on more of them."

Carol laughed. "Good, as in I haven't blown us up yet?"

"Yes," Gail said with perfect honesty. "Well, and you're keeping your head on straight. A lot of people really aren't cut out for these kinds of things. They're much better staying on the ship."

"I used to figure that was me."

"Well I think you were wrong about that."

Carol's smile was small but sincere. "Thank you," she said in a low voice.

Hours later, when she had almost finished working out the shield's mechanics, Mr. Scott came in from the anteroom, grabbed a towel to wipe grime off his hands, and said, "Recalibrated the transmitters on the pad. So. Where are we at?"

Carol went first. "I've just about worked out the equations for the shield's frequencies, so if you have the transmitting harness in place I can begin my first round of tests in under an hour."

"Good. Robots?"

Oureka said, "We have converted all of the currently available units."

"Excellent. How about getting the Pilots hooked in?"

Gaila made a face. "We're having trouble with that."

Scott's brow furrowed. "What kind?"

Gaila and Oureka gave him a rundown, showing the various modules and subunits they had in place and where the failures were happening.

Scott ran his hands through his hair. "Alright, well, you've already tried everything I would, so let's report in. Maybe the captain and Arkoryx'll have some ideas."

Gaila hailed the _Enterprise_, looking frustrated. Carol gave her a sympathetic look, and Gaila responded with a tired smile.

* * *

Mr. Scott didn't mince words once he had Spock, the captain, and Arkoryx on the line. "We've got ten more of those drones out there now, and Marcus is close to testing a return transporter. But there's a problem with connecting the Pilots into the computer system."

"What kind of problem?" Jim asked, and Gaila synced her display to the _Enterprise_ so she could show them.

"Every time we loop them in, the connection destabilizes. We're on our thirteenth prototype now, and we have a few more to go, but this isn't looking good." She was working to keep the frustration out of her voice, but Spock could hear it none-the-less.

Jim rubbed his chin while he looked at Oureka and Gaila's code, and Spock asked, "Is the facility AI interfering with the process?"

"No, we've checked and double-checked. The system signal's clear and strong, no outside interference. We just can't seem to synchronize them like they are on the Pilots' channel. We're missing something, but Oureka and I can't see what it is."

Jim muttered a curse under his breath and turned in a circle, arms folded.

Arkoryx, who had been listening with his head tilted, said, "There is one possibility, Lieutenant." Jim stopped his pacing and faced Arkoryx. "It may be the missing link, is Captain Kirk."

On the screen, Spock saw Oureka flinch and Gaila blink in surprise, while there in his lab the tension between Jim and Arkoryx increased by several orders of magnitude.

After a handful of brittle seconds, Jim said, "You've known the whole time."

Arkoryx made a graceful gesture with one hand. Based on Spock's observations of Praxidi body language over the past two days, he was now reasonably certain this particular motion was similar to a Human shrug.

"I suspected."

Several things fell into place for Spock. The Inhabitants had, in fact, used the captain to reach the Pilots' channel the first time, and Arkoryx had been accommodating because he knew Jim was not overly tolerant of the Praxidi and might decide to leave at any moment. That was also why they'd been willing to allow the _Enterprise_ to transport to the station-in case they needed Jim to go to it.

The very last thing Spock was willing to do was place the captain in a position where the Praxidi might be able to exert control over him, and though the number of _Enterprise_ crew on the station outnumbered the Praxidi landing party, he had no doubt Arkoryx was comfortable with those numbers as they stood.

There were the Inhabitants to consider, however. They controlled the robot drones, and (if the captain had his way) ultimately would control the station. They were not necessarily allied with the Praxidians. Of course, they weren't necessarily allied with the captain either.

Spock noticed Jim was watching him. With Arkoryx present, Spock would have to choose his words carefully. He clasped his hands behind his back and said, "Perhaps it will be necessary to send you to the facility, Captain, that you might complete the connection and enable the Inhabitants to gain control of it."

He saw a reaction flit through Jim's eyes, and hoped he'd been understood. Arkoryx was still and focused on Jim, and Spock had a brief hope his message had not been too obvious.

Jim sighed. Spock thought he sounded tired, and imagined he was weary of diplomatic chess with the Praxidi. "Do we need to send any additional equipment over?" he asked Arkoryx.

"There will be one or two items Master Engineer Oureka will require. I can have them transported from the _Waterbourne_ to the facility."

So Arkoryx had either not considered sending the captain to the station a foregone conclusion, or he wished to maintain that illusion. Spock would have to consider the implications of both cases.

Jim blew out a breath. "Right. Okay, let's get me over there."

* * *

"I knew it," Dr. McCoy said, sounding disgusted. "We can't get within five light-years of these guys without them trying to mess with you somehow."

Jim was remaining calm in the face of the doctor's objections, which Spock thought was a good sign. "I'm just going to be there to let them get control of the station back. I'm not doing anything else."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Sure you're not."

"This isn't like last time."

"You're right, it's not, because last time, I didn't have my entire medical staff, a med bay full of sedatives, Spock, _and_ Kevin handy to keep you from acting on your stupid ideas."

Jim looked at the floor for a moment, accepting the censure without comment.

"Doctor," Spock said, and McCoy stopped glaring at Jim long enough to look at Spock. "Would it assuage your concerns if one of Dr. Riley's biotechnology staff accompanied him?"

McCoy's eyes narrowed. "Only if it's Tracy."

Dr. Karen Tracy was the head of Riley's staff. Spock agreed with Dr. McCoy that she would be the best choice short of Drs. Riley or McCoy themselves. "Captain?"

Jim and Dr. McCoy studied one another, the doctor looking as unyielding as Spock had ever seen him, and Jim, for once, not pushing. Finally, Jim said, "Kirk to Dr. Riley."

"Riley here."

"Professor, I need you and Dr. Tracy to come to Mr. Spock's laboratory."

"We'll be there shortly, Captain."

When Dr. Tracy and the captain arrived on the receiving pad, Scotty was pleased to be able to report, "We have return transporter capabilities, Captain."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott, the good news is appreciated."

"Well, it was mostly Marcus, if you want to know the truth." In his peripheral vision, Scotty saw Tracy give him an amused look.

"I suspected," Jim said. His tone was dry.

"Of course you did. Right this way."

Scotty lead them into the main room, where the captain stopped to look at the computer cluster towers. They continued to the small space Oureka had cleared for him next to a console; a black, foam-like pad was spread out along the floor and partly against the wall.

"Pilot. I hope this will be a comfortable place for you."

"Considering the circumstances, it'll be fine. Thanks." He settled himself down, legs stretched in front of him, and accepted a tablet from Tracy, who pulled out a medical tricorder and began scanning him.

Given Tracy's no-nonsense nature, Scotty was fairly sure he knew why she was there, and couldn't have been more grateful. He'd been worried about how they were going to keep the captain from doing anything harebrained without Spock or McCoy handy.

After a few seconds, Tracy nodded at Oureka, who tapped at her tablet, offered it to Tracy, and moved to the management console. The captain's eyes narrowed for a second, and he said, "It's connected."

Tracy sent her tricorder's readings to the tablet and snapped it shut. After a once-over, she said, "Everything looks good."

"Okay." Jim shook himself out. "Let's get this over with."

Oureka said, "Beginning synchronization," and swept her hand across the console.

Jim sucked in a breath and his eyes went wide, the pupils shrunk to pinpoints, and his fingers clawed into the foam padding.

"Captain?" Dr. Tracy asked, eyes on her tablet. Scotty saw something flicker yellow, then orange, then red.

"Still here," he choked out. "Just-this isn't like on the ships." His jaw clenched and he tensed all over, and Scotty traded a nervous look with Marcus.

Tracy's mouth formed a thin line. "Captain, if this doesn't stop I'm-"

"_Don't_." His voice caught on the word. Oureka was all but vibrating in place, and Gaila watched from her seat with a grim expression.

Jim's body went rigid for a harrowing handful of seconds, then the tension broke and he sagged back against the wall. "Son of a _bitch_." He dragged in his breaths and ran one hand over his face. "You really need to, work on that interface some."

"It'll be in the next patch," Tracy promised, and passed her tablet to Oureka, who began adjusting various settings. She in turn nodded at Marcus and Gaila, who set to work on their consoles, pulling up a variety of modules and layouts.

"How's it looking," Jim asked, craning his neck to see Marcus and Gaila. Scotty watched their displays, resisting the urge to pace.

"They're in sync," Marcus said. She and Gaila murmured to one another, adjusted some of the settings, and Gaila grinned. "The connection's holding."

The captain rested his head against the wall, looking exhausted. "Good work everyone."

From that point on, Tracy worked with Marcus and Gaila, and they spread out along the various displays, moving between them as they helped the Pilots and the Inhabitants with the finer points of obtaining control of the computer system. The captain worked on his tablet and occasionally stared out over the room, but said very little. Oureka and Scotty tuned the transporter in between deliveries of new drones to repurpose.

Some time later, while he and Oureka were refitting two more salvaged drones, Scotty asked her, "Why d'ya call him that? 'Pilot', I mean. He's got a name, and a rank, and everything."

Oureka set her instrument down and gripped her hands together. "It would be rude to call him anything else."

"Rude?"

"The Pilots are the charges of the Guild of Engineering. As a systems engineer and the Master Engineer of the _Waterbourne_, this would be entirely deplorable behavior for me to exhibit. Any Pilot is my first and most important responsibility." Her fingers flicked, and she asked, "Would it be more correct for us to call him by his rank and name?"

Scotty's immediate thought was to say yes, because being made captain of a ship was a considerable thing, and the whole business of being a Pilot had been forced onto Kirk (and left him in pretty sorry shape for some time afterward on top of that). On the other hand, the captain didn't seem to mind that the Praxidians called him 'Pilot', though Scotty wasn't sure if that was Kirk playing at diplomacy or if he actually found it tolerable.

"Ah, I guess it's mostly what he's comfortable with. I mean, considering how it all came about."

Oureka's neat braid of nerve-bundles shivered. "It is true those circumstances were unacceptable." She took up her tablet and tapped at it, and Scotty wondered if it was the play for distraction that it appeared to be. "But as a Pilot, he has saved the lives of many of my people, aided an assistant to become captain, and given one of our engineers a way to integrate converted Pilots. To our people, it was not Captain Kirk who did these things. It was the Fifth Pilot of the _Dancer in the Void_."

Scotty sighed. "Well. When you put it that way I guess it _would_ be rude." He cast a furtive glance around, leaned closer to her, and said in a low voice, "Between you and me? Don't tell him any of that. It'll go straight to his head."

Oureka looked up at Scotty's crown, as if she might find some example of what he meant there, then met his eyes again. "I will endeavor not to."

She probably had no idea what he meant. Well, it had been worth a shot. "Right. I'll just get back to this drone."

She bobbed her head at him in what might have been some approximation of a nod and returned to her work on her own robot.

Scotty sincerely hoped none of the other races they ran into would be even remotely this much trouble.


	8. Chapter 8

Carol swore and added yet another subunit to the enormous list of what the AI still controlled. They'd made progress since bringing the Pilots onto the station's network, but everything felt like so much treading water. They would gain access to some areas, only to find themselves locked out of others, and on the whole she wasn't sure how much progress they were actually making.

Worse, Gaila had voiced a concern to her that still had Carol worried, even though nothing had come of it: the AI's various attacks seemed haphazard and random now, like it was looking for something, though what wasn't readily clear.

Scott came in from handling another set of drones. He stopped to check on the captain (who seemed to divide his time between listening to the Pilots and Inhabitants and whatever he'd brought on his tablet), then joined Carol and Gaila.

"So, are we never going to meet these Inhabitants?" he asked. "I was just talking to Hendorff, and they've not seen a one. Last he talked to one of the Praxidian landing party, neither had they. Just the robots they're controlling."

Gaila glanced up from her work. "Maybe they're shy."

In plain disbelief, Scott echoed, "Shy?"

"We're they're first contact. And the first thing they had to do was beg for their lives." Gaila looked away. "That had to have been pretty hard. And they don't have a reason to trust us, not really. So maybe they're just playing it safe."

Carol didn't know the finer details of Gaila's arrival in Federation space, but she heard something in Gaila's voice that made her throat tighten. She swallowed against it, and added, "There's not very many of them, either. Between us and the Praxidians we outnumber them three to one. I'd stay out of sight as well."

Scott appeared to think that over. "I suppose that makes sense." He took up one of the water cannisters and had a long drink, then went back to the robots. Carol exchanged a brief look with Gaila and returned to her list of access controls. As she paged through her most recent diagnostic, she saw something that made her lean in and frown at the display. "Gaila. What does this look like to you?"

Gaila slid over one chair and gestured through the subunits. She blinked and zoomed out for a wider view of the entire connection layout. The AI's actions drew in over numerous locations now, glaring red as it blocked segment after segment. She bolted back to her station. "It's trying to split them up."

Carol pulled up the control console with a flick of her fingers and dug through the various interfaces. When she reached the one she needed, it was already too late: the window winked out and a polite message informed her that segment of the route was gone.

"Captain, the AI is attempting to separate all of you." When he didn't respond she looked over her shoulder, and fear made her tense: he was staring straight ahead, unblinking and unmoving. He might not have even been breathing.

Tracy was out of her chair and by his side with her tricorder out in a moment. "His vitals are all normal." She waved a hand in front of his face, and didn't react. "Captain? Can you hear me?"

He blinked once with exaggerated slowness. Tracy's tricorder chirped at the same time Gaila snarled something in Orion and slammed her fist on the console. Jim exhaled sharply, his eyes slid shut, and he began to slump over. Tracy caught him and laid him out on the padding, taking another reading. She said, "His vitals are a little elevated but nothing dangerous. What happened?"

Looking more furious than Carol had ever seen her, Gaila gestured with shaking hands and sent a series of diagrams onto the main display. The AI had locked Jim into the system, and shut him into a security black hole.

* * *

It took several seconds for Jim to acclimate to the sudden change in his surroundings. He'd been working on a tablet and listening to Gaila and Carol and Tracy's discussion about how to best manage their progress as pleasant background noise, and now he was standing in a flat, gray expanse whose borders were marked by a black, glass wall that surrounded him in a rough circle and stretched overhead into a dark, starless sky. He grimaced when he saw the ground beneath his feet was black sand.

He tried to reach along the connection, and felt his efforts vanish into nothing. It was still there, that he was sure of, but he felt like he was the only one on it.

The space several feet in front of him warped and writhed, and a form took shape in it: himself. In the realm of possible explanations, one in particular jumped out at him.

"You're the station's AI."

His own face giving him a look that was equal parts amusement and surprise was uncanny. "Very good, Captain Kirk. I was hoping I'd get to lead you on a chase for a little while before we got to the introductions."

"This isn't my first rodeo."

"No, you're pretty well acquainted with this sort of thing, aren't you?"

Jim felt a tremor go through him. It could just be making educated guesses based on the kinds of readings it could get through the computer system's networks, scans from the station's sensors, and what Jim had already said. At least, he hoped that's what it was, and not the decidedly more invasive alternative.

"Not as familiar as you, apparently."

"Probably not, no."

"So, why do you have me here?"

"I want to discuss a proposition with you."

"And you couldn't just contact us on one of the displays?"

The AI's shape distorted, and now it looked like Captain Ulila. "I wished for this conversation to be private."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Which means you want to make me an offer you think I can't refuse."

"I cannot remove free will from you at this time, but it would certainly be unwise for you to refuse it."

_At this time_ was a nauseating thought. "And if I do refuse, you'll, what-kill me?"

"To do so would be a barbaric waste."

That didn't pan out with what he knew, and Jim puzzled over it until understanding buoyed his spirits in a rush: it needed him alive.

Now he had to figure out what for. "Why should I believe you?"

"My interests lie solely in the continued existence and functionality of this facility, and ending your life would surely incite a response from those remaining on your ships. Sooner or later, they would determine a way to extract justice."

"Mutually assured destruction as a motivator to play nice doesn't exactly fill me with confidence."

"And yet that is where we find ourselves. Do you wish to hear my offer?"

Jim gestured widely with his arms. "Sure. Why the hell not."

"You will remain here, in this containment area. The rest of your people will dissolve the communications network between the ship-entities and the research experiments, and transport back to your vessels. When I have finished resuming control of the experiments, you will be permitted to leave as well."

He could only think of one reason he needed to stay while the Pilots could go. Through gritted teeth he said, "I will kill myself before I'll let you use me to get to them."

The AI seemed taken aback. "That would be a poor decision. I would have no choice but to dispose of your crew on this structure, which would bring us back to our earlier predicament."

"Then I guess since you want to keep this station functional and I don't want anyone to die, we're going to have to figure out a compromise."

The shade shifted to resemble Carol. "I can assure you, I won't bring you nor any of your people to harm."

He couldn't help himself; he laughed. The AI looked puzzled.

"You think that's funny?"

"You claiming you won't hurt me while trying to use me to kill the Inhabitants is pretty damned funny, yeah."

"You won't experience pain. If all goes well, you won't even be aware of what transpires."

"Except for how I'll be complicit in the deaths of a few hundred sentient beings who haven't done anything wrong?"

"I won't need to dispose of all of the research experiments, just those which are the most dangerous and refuse to cooperate."

"Oh, so just, maybe half of them."

"More or less."

Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head. "How generous of you. Can't imagine why they won't 'cooperate'."

"Their refusal to surrender is understandable, but not acceptable, and prevents me from finishing my work. The continued existence and functionality of this station is my highest priority, and takes precedence over their needs."

The fact that it looked like Carol made him want to reason with it at least a little. "So why not work _with_ them? Why not let them live, just, have lives, their _own_ lives? They could help you move the station to a safer spot and you could leave them alone."

The AI shifted to look like Gaila. One of Jim's hands formed a fist. "It's far too late for that, Captain. I've determined that the experiments won't stop short of obtaining revenge for their perceived mistreatment. My course is set."

Memories from the distress call filled his head. "Perc-_perceived_?"

"I've only performed the necessary research to generate what was needed to satisfy the system's protocols."

Jim tried to hold on to his temper. "Speaking of shit that's not _acceptable_."

"Really, Captain Kirk, you're putting yourself at a lofty moral position, but have Humans never experimented on things they consider lesser, even their own kind? Weren't those experiments necessary to discover new insights that furthered the existence of your entire race?"

"The ends doesn't justify the means, especially not when you're talking about people's lives."

"So you'd sacrifice millions of your own people and delay your technological advancement for the sake of a few lesser creatures?"

Jim gritted his teeth. "This isn't some game of 'if my grandma had wheels', and we're not the ones creating an entire sentient race just so we can save our own skin, then killing them off when they won't let us play god."

The shade sighed in exasperation. "Fine-then let's consider you. Haven't you been driven in this life to be someone other than what's expected of you?"

Jim told himself the AI was just guessing, it had to be guessing, but all he could hear was Pike's voice from what felt like half a lifetime ago.

_You know I almost couldn't believe it when the bartender told me who you were._

Something must have shown in his expression, because it went on, relentless. "Haven't the changes made to you by the Praxidi afforded you the opportunity you've always wanted-to set yourself apart from expectations? Would you give up these differentiating experiences to avoid having been their test subject?"

He didn't even have to think that one over. "_Yes_."

The AI smiled with Spock's face. "But then you would not be here, and the Inhabitants would surely die when this station succumbed to the magnetar's forces or I regained control. Your selfishness for a gentler life would doom them."

"Don't pretend like you can predict alternate realities. Someone else might have come along."

"And I would, in kind, advise you to not pretend that you are any less than what you are: the product of the experimentation of forces much greater than yourself, with a place in this universe even you cannot fully comprehend."

_I don't want to die, it's just these things keep happening to me._

"I'm the product of _my experiences_, and the universe isn't some sort of science lab."

"Can you be so sure? Do not underestimate the machinations of my creat-" The AI's visualization split into a conglomeration of colors and shapes. "_How_?" it demanded in a distorted voice, then vanished, leaving Jim to stare at his own faint reflection in the wall.

His shock at the AI's suggestion turned to anger. He approached the glass barrier, trembling. "I am sick to death of everyone telling me or deciding for me who and what I am." He punctuated the last word by slamming a fist on the glass, and was surprised to find that it didn't hurt. That spurred him on. "I am _not_ my dad." He struck the wall again, harder, and a thin crack formed, stretching from the black sand all the way overhead into nothingness. It occurred to him that there was no point to doing this, then that thought was chased away by the recognition that he was so furious he didn't care. "I am _not_ your ticket to killing them." He struck again, and the crack spider-webbed out further. He started shouting and hitting the glass with every word. "And I am not, someone's, fucking, science experiment!"

The crack split clear through to the other side of the wall, and to his surprise he felt the connection seeping through, searching for him.

Here, I'm here. He tried to reach back, but the opening wasn't wide enough to permit anything more than the barest touch. He hammered on the glass, and with each blow the damage spread out along the wall's length and the gap widened.

Immense pressure begin to weigh him down as the AI tightened its grip, and he knew this might be their only chance at getting him out. He concentrated, focusing on the thread of the connection that was reaching for him, and forced himself to take several steps back. He dug in his heels, then threw himself at the wall shoulder-first, connecting with bone-jarring force.

Large waves spread out along the wall from where he struck, like ripples on a pond surface, and he thought he could feel them shoving the entire containment space as they went. The wavefronts crossed on the opposite side of the wall, and a low, groaning sound set everything around him vibrating so hard he thought he was going to shake apart. They rolled onward until they circled around to the point of impact.

The waves reached their deepest troughs and highest peaks, and the wall shattered.


	9. Chapter 9

The connection snatched him up from amongst the shards, and he awoke on the foam pad in the control room.

"Pilot. Are you well?"

He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light of the core control room. Oureka was kneeling next to him. "Yeah. I think so." He took a breath and let it out slowly. "Thanks for getting me out of there." He saw Tracy slide out of her seat and grab something; soon she was scanning him from a tricorder.

"How about we not tell Dr. McCoy about that," he said, and she snorted.

"No deal, Captain."

Carol spoke from her seat at the command console. "You're welcome, Captain, but we're almost back to square one. We've lost a good deal of ground."

He looked at Oureka. "How are you doing on robots?"

"We have obtained a half-dozen more with the aid of the Inhabitants."

"Okay. I have an idea. The connection might look a little weird in a second."

Gaila narrowed her eyes at him. "Captain, what exactly are you planning?"

Jim sat back up against the wall. "I'm going to make sure the AI can't pull a stunt like that again. And then I'm going to kick its ass." He took another breath to steady himself and let the connection pull him back under.

* * *

No sooner had the system closed up around him than the Inhabitants and the Pilots were checking him over nervously; he assured them he was fine, and they settled back to their tasks. Most of the Inhabitants were working with Scotty and Oureka to disable the robot sub-AIs, while the Pilots and the remaining Inhabitants were assisting Gaila and Carol with the AI's security subsystems. That left him at somewhat loose ends, which gave him time to think.

Their current efforts were, overall, a losing strategy. The central AI knew that it had only to cut him out of the connection again to regain control. Worse, it had suggested it was working on a way to convert him, which was a worst-case scenario if ever there was one, because if it could convert him, it could convert the Pilots.

Gaila and the Pilots had already shored up the holes in the protocol which the AI had exploited, but there would be others, and the station's grid had enough computing power to find them in short order. They couldn't rely on keeping ahead of, or even just pace with, the AI. To prevent it from happening again, they needed to be more than just two entities with one connecting them; they needed to be one entity made of three seamless parts, so any one would always have the other two protecting its vulnerabilities.

Well, if anyone knew anything about integrating disparate beings, it was him, though the first time had been by feel and on accident and out of necessity. Intentional, reversible integration was a whole different ballgame. Of course, the chaotic maelstrom of the station's hostile computer grid was the very definition of necessity, and he had always used instinct to survive his most difficult trials. Jim Kirk was nothing if not about finding his own way. If it wouldn't be accidental this time, well, maybe that was a good thing for all of them.

He thought he could feel the AI clawing at them, looking for new ways in. Carol and Gaila's hastily-compiled security system was doing an amazing job of fending it off for all that they'd pitted it against the most advanced software system in probably the entire galaxy.

He gripped both ends of the connection to get the Pilots' and Inhabitants' attention. He told them they had to do this differently. They agreed, because they were concerned about pushing any advantages again, only to lose him once more, maybe for good.

He laid out his idea. He thought he understood how he'd managed integration before, and how to make it non-permanent for this instance, and the advantages it had.

They were, he was unsurprised to find, nervous and unsure. A lack of permanence didn't mean a lack of fundamental change, and who knew what would happen to them. The Inhabitants had been fighting to be free for so long, it looked like yet another play for control, and the Pilots were concerned of the effect it would have on them.

That reaction was familiar territory, though; in fact, it was the beginning he needed.

He took their fear and offered his resolve to all of them in its place.

* * *

"What's going on?" Carol asked as her panel flickered, distorted, and re-resolved. Gaila swept at hers, which had frozen.

"Maybe this is what he meant. Dr. Tracy? Is he alright?"

Tracy was tapping at her tablet here and there. She gave Carol and Gaila a worried look, then crouched down next to Jim.

"Captain."

Without opening his eyes he said, "Give us a second."

Something in his voice made Carol's skin crawl. Next to her, Gaila asked, "Us?"

The core control panel went red and black, warnings and demands flashing over it. Gaila dug through the modules, trying to get their access back; Carol joined her after a second. Tracy kept watching the captain.

Carol glanced over her shoulder and saw him smile in that smug way he reserved for whenever he was about to win.

* * *

The integration varied the way an electron's presence at any point in its orbit did. Sometimes he was Jim Kirk, and sometimes he was the joined entity they'd made for this unique purpose. If he needed to be Jim, he could be, though it was a tenuous distinction at best, and he seldom stayed himself for very long.

Most of their attention was diverted to building the connection properly, and when they emerged from that it was to find the AI had been busy removing the access they'd worked so hard to obtain. Gaila and Carol were already on it, and with more direct access to the Inhabitants, the Pilots found it easier to assist in re-establishing their access.

The AI's probes for new loopholes were fruitless. Each time it was on to something, they shut it out. Carol and Gaila helped clear the way for them. The security measures fell, one at a time, and as they gained control of more of the grid the AI lost more of its power. It made several attempts to sabotage the life support systems; all of them failed. It tried to reprogram Oureka and Scotty's re-purposed robots and found it could not.

They gained access to the central processing cluster of the facility, and were face to face with the AI in short order. It wasn't the sort of thing which could be afraid, or so they thought, but it acted out of desperation to continue on as it was programmed, to survive.

They were nothing, it told them. They were all experiments: the Pilots were bred and born to serve the whims of others, the station's research subjects served no purpose beyond the AI's own intentions, and he had been used again and again as the means to some ends far beyond his own understanding. They were _nothing_, they had no purpose.

Any fear they harbored that the AI was right burned away in the fury that chased on its heels. (He wondered how much of that fury was his own.) Whether they'd been made to serve someone else's purpose or not, right now, they served their own.

They reached into the heart of the system matrix, took hold of the entity there, and tore it out.

* * *

Every display in the room froze, then went black. The computing cluster's lights began to blink in a steadily spreading pattern that, once it had reached all of them, halted. No one spoke; they just watched the captain, waiting for some kind of sign.

Scott burst in from the hallway. "What the hell just happened?"

* * *

The grid seized. They discarded the AI, and it began to degrade, modules and subunits unraveling. They reached down and placed themselves where the AI had been, and the facility systems latched onto them as the new heart. It didn't care what they were, so long as they were self and the interface was correct, and thanks to the Inhabitants and Gaila and Carol's tireless work, both of these things were true.

Their connection trickled out into the myriad reaches of the structure, and he could feel every ache and pain and complaint of the station as the star's evolution twisted and pulled, manipulating the facility in ways that had never been intended. He thought he could even feel the neutron star itself, its surface strained close to a breaking point by its own nature.

Their first act was to reprogram the sub-AIs, which they did with a simple wave of demand. As the results spread throughout the facility they watched through the cameras and witnessed the amazement of the unconnected Inhabitants as their captors released them and became docile, helpful, even protective. The Praxidi landing party walked further into the facility, past inert robot drones that were still repurposing, while Tracy, Oureka, Carol and Gaila called out updates from their newly rebooted consoles to Scotty. Everyone was uninjured, which eased his concerns.

They moved on to more pressing matters. They had been right: the facility was capable of movement. The stellar fragment that powered it didn't behave like a warp core, though; instead, it manipulated magnetic and gravitational fields. The structure's motion wouldn't be like the propulsion a ship used.

They poured through the information needed to achieve a safer orbit. The hows and whys were staggering, and together they learned how to tell the structure where to go and how to safely go there. The core would be doing most of the work, they just had to tell it what to do. Much easier than he'd expected, and a welcome respite given how difficult it had been to get to this point.

They warned everyone on board first, though it wouldn't effect them much. The core had more than enough power to keep the shields and stabilizers at maximum. The combined chorus of his and the Pilots' voices was more than a little eerie as it rang through the halls. "Prepare for facility translocation."

Jim had just enough of a sense of self to give a more personalized message. He struggled back to the surface of his own consciousness. Opening his eyes felt like it took years. "Scotty."

Scotty leaned down to look at him. "Captain. I take it all this means you got it sorted?"

"We did. We're moving the station." He saw Oureka, Tracy. Carol, and Gaila out of the corner of his eye; though they were busy, Gaila's one glance towards him held a great deal of relief. "It should be a smooth ride."

"_Should_ be?"

"No promises. Maybe hold onto something." He let his eyes close, and the system swallowed him up like a hungry tide.

The part of them that was the Inhabitants held the facility, their awareness seeping into every corner and preparing it for the move. The part that was the Pilots built their path and destination, mapping the new orbit and their trajectory to it in the finest possible detail.

That left one thing for him. He took hold of the stellar core; it spun so fast that its pulse was like the thrum of a hummingbird's wings against his mind. He felt the edges of its magnetic fields where they pushed against the magnetar's; the star seemed to stir, restless as it dreamed of becoming.

The knowledge of the core's use solidified around him, pulled in from the deepest corners of the grid that had remained hidden to even the AI. Only the creators were allowed here, and as their descendants that was the Inhabitants, and through his connection to them the grid showed him how to command it. With a touch the tiny star knew what was needed, and tightened in on itself, increasing its rotational speed a thousand-fold.

They brought all three components together and joined their purpose with a single word.

_Now_.


	10. Chapter 10

Chekov and Sulu's stations chirped various alerts, and the viewscreen recolored the magnetic field paths in warning red and orange on both the neutron star and the facility. A new set of twisting lines began to coil around the station, turning faster with each passing second, and in response the neutron star's field's were building up.

Spock stepped closer to the helm, frowning at the results. "Is it a starquake?"

Sulu made frantic adjustments to the long range sensor array. "No, it's coming from the station."

"The station? Has there been word from the captain or Mr. Scott?"

Chekov's eyes widened at one of the readouts. "Commander!"

The viewscreen's display of the facility began to distort around it, lensing the view of space beyond into a warped circle. A brief warning of 'Singularity Detected' flashed across Chekov and Sulu's stations, and the facility vanished, leaving a small shock wave in its wake as space closed around it. A heartbeat later, a new circular distortion appeared close to the perimeter set by the _Waterbourne_, and the station popped back into view. The sensors tracked the new orbit as it formed a safe distance from the magnetar, and the star's surface stress dropped several orders of magnitude.

Even Spock needed a moment to find his voice. "Captain," he said. The entire bridge waited, motionless, until Scott's voice broke over the audio system.

"We're here Commander. The captain and the rest of them have the computer system all sorted out." Spock heard more than one person exhale, and saw Chekov slump in his chair.

"What is the status of the structure's stability?"

Kirk's voice broke in. "The Inhabitants think they'll have enough time in this orbit to repair it, then move it somewhere safer long-term."

"The Inhabitants intend to keep the facility?"

"They do."

Arkoryx's nerve bundles writhed. Spock tried not to feel too satisfied with that outcome (though not very hard).

"Have any of you sustained injuries?"

"Nothing that can't wait. We'll transport back as soon as we can get everything finalized."

Spock thought it sounded like the truth, and when Dr. Tracy didn't break in with any conflicting reports he decided that this time it was. "We will be waiting, Captain."

* * *

Scott turned to Carol, looking possessed. "Please please please tell me you got readings on that," he said, eyes wide.

"I-yes, the probes should have, and I've had several streams saving to the tablets from the station this whole time."

"_Yes_, you're brilliant!" He seemed to realize that everyone not the captain was staring at him, and worked to calm himself, straightening out his uniform and smoothing his hair. "Ah, well, it's just I've never been through a controlled, stable wormhole before and, it would be a hell of a thing to look into. Is all."

Carol smiled at him, suddenly weak with relief. "Yes. Yes it would."

Tracy moved from the seat she'd been sitting in to kneel down near the captain. He was coated in a fine sheen of sweat and paler than usual, and when he opened his eyes he didn't seem to be able to focus on anything.

"I can't believe that actually worked," he said, voice shaking. Tracy ran her tricorder over him, looked at the results, then set it aside.

"You're a little shocky, Captain, so I want you to stay still. I've got a few things that should help stabilize you."

"Okay." He gave her a sideways look. "They're all shots, aren't they."

"If you want fewer shots you'll have to stop doing this kind of thing."

"You doctors are all the same." He winced as she administered them but otherwise held still. "Always wanting to poke people with sharp things."

Gaila made no effort to hide her smug smile. Carol couldn't tell if the captain noticed it.

"Pretty great job, to be honest." When Tracy was done she put her kit aside. "Give that about five minutes, then unhook yourself from the system."

"Got it. Thanks."

She patted him on the shoulder and took up her tricorder for another scan. Oureka moved closer and spoke to the captain in a voice too low for Carol to overhear.

When Tracy's scan was done, she nodded at him, and he leaned back and shut his eyes. Carol looked up at large, overhead display and watched as the entire connection reconfigured itself back to the discrete components she and Gaila had started with.

* * *

Unraveling the connection back to its looser state almost seemed to happen of its own accord. One moment, they were confirming the stability of the station and its operations and organizing the duties for the sub-AIs; the next, he was collapsing back into himself while something integral yanked free and drifted away. He reached out to stop it, begging it not to leave him on instinct, and for a moment he felt it return the sentiment. Then he remembered this was what was necessary and what they all wanted, and let it slip through his fingers.

He startled and found himself on the foam pad again, blinking away sweat and tears from his eyes. His uniform felt sticky and damp, and he wanted nothing more than to go somewhere quiet and dark. Oureka and Dr. Tracy were kneeling next to him, going over readings on their tablets. Tracy peered at him.

"All disconnected?"

"Mostly." He ran a hand over his face and tried to ignore the empty space where the integration had been.

Tracy didn't look convinced, but she nodded at Oureka, who made three precise taps on her tablet. The last threads of the facility's system disappeared, leaving him on the Pilots' channel. It was subdued compared to the station's sprawling systems, no matter that the endless stream of the Pilots' activity was still there. The Inhabitants were still present as well, though quiet as they concentrated on their new work managing the facility.

Jim started to lever himself up, wincing against how weak and stiff his muscles felt. Tracy and Oureka hovered nearby, ready to catch him, and when he managed a handful of steps without collapsing they pulled back.

With a last look around them at the computer control room, Jim said, "Let's get the hell out of here."


	11. Chapter 11

Spock owed Uhura the galaxy's biggest possible explanation, because they hadn't had a chance to sit and talk about anything for almost two days, and although being on communications gave her a better window into what was going on than most people, it was amazing how often she was still in the dark. Fortunately for him, Kirk got to her first.

The captain called her to his quarters about an hour before the Inhabitants were scheduled to depart; when she arrived, he was busy with what appeared to be one of Carol's many reports. He was still wearing the collar device she'd caught glimpses of, and he looked exhausted, if not unhappy.

He glanced up and indicated one of the guest chairs with a nod. "Hey, Uhura. Have a seat, I just need a second." He closed the collection of figures and text to reveal several dozen more documents from various other individuals, herself among them. It was a good thing he liked reading, because he had a lot of it to do before he could file his own report.

He darkened his display with a gesture. "So. Normally, when we're in a first contact situation, you wind up with at least one, if not several, languages to study. And I know there was the message in the initial distress call, but I'm sure that's not the same as several hours of conversations and negotiations. None of which we have this time around."

Without meaning to she looked at the device again. He did as well, and gave her an apologetic smile.

"This is part of why, but it's not the entire reason." There was a small memory fob on his desk. He pushed it over to her, and she took it up, frowning.

"What's this?"

"The Inhabitants don't have a spoken language. They communicate completely with signs and gestures and posture, or through a networked link like the Pilots use. They had to evolve the physical language frequently to keep the AI from knowing what they were saying to one another off the grid." He paused, no doubt from the look of understanding that had to be on her face.

She said, "They didn't want to use our main communications systems because there was always the chance we wouldn't be able to help them, and if the AI saw too much of their interactions with us, it would get better at translating. The device was private, so it was safer."

Kirk nodded. "I asked them if they'd be willing to record some things, since the AI's not a problem anymore. There's maybe a dozen hours on there at most, which I know isn't a lot, but I hope it's a start."

Uhura stared at him, then back down at the fob. When she didn't say anything, he started talking again. (He did that when he didn't know why someone wasn't responding.)

"I also pulled some things from the station's computers so you could look at its makers' language. There's a lot more of that. Most of it's text, but there were some audio recordings too."

She closed her hand around the fob and met his eyes. Simple thanks seemed inadequate, and maybe not even necessary, because he was doing this to make up for how there was so much he wasn't telling anyone, not even her. Yet in her hand she was holding the sort of thing most linguists waited their whole careers for: two rare languages, one of which she might be the only person to ever report on.

"Thank you," she said, hoping her voice made it clear. He relaxed, and gave her a weak smile.

"No problem. And, thank you-you're the one who picked up the signal and recognized what it was. If you hadn't, I don't think any of this would have turned out like it did." She accepted the praise with a smile of her own, and he cleared his throat and took up his tablet. "So. See you on the bridge in an hour?"

She got up from her chair. "I'll be there."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"You're welcome, Captain."

She cursed the fact that she'd only have an hour with the recordings before she had to be back on shift. It was all she could do not to sprint back to her quarters.

* * *

Carol sat at a table in the rear observation deck, watching the facility float in space, free of the dangers of the neutron star and the AI that had once controlled it. It looked quite different to her now that she saw it through eyes that had witnessed battles to control it from both without and within.

The Inhabitants were going to depart soon, but she had wanted to avoid the busy chaos of the bridge, and this was her next best view. She was working through a glass of red wine and thinking over the last couple of chaotic days: of working with the physics of a type of star she'd never thought to encounter; of trying to wrap her mind around the computer systems of the facility so she could help Gaila with the software; of watching the captain bridge a communications gap between two species.

The last part had her wondering. Jim seemed alright, or as alright as he ever was, yet she wasn't sure how he could still be himself in the face of these kinds of things. That led her to the uncomfortable subject of her father, who had changed without her noticing, all because of Nero. She was determined to _not_ think about that right now, and so stopped. If Drs. McCoy and Riley and Commander Spock felt Jim was himself and capable of being captain, she would trust their judgment (especially Commander Spock's).

"Pretty nice view."

She looked up from the wineglass to find Gaila standing behind the seat opposite her with a glass of something milky and bright yellow in hand. Carol smiled and gestured at the table, and Gaila sat down with a murmured thanks.

"I figured this was just as good a view as the bridge."

"Just with less people," Gaila agreed.

Carol raised her glass, saying, "To out-engineering an advanced race." Gaila followed suit with a smile, and they both took a drink. Their eyes fell on the station, and Carol asked, "Do you think they're still out there?" Gaila seemed at a loss, and Carol clarified, "The ones who made the facility."

Gaila regarded it for a moment, then shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

Gaila's fingers drummed on the table. "You know how the Galaxy slowly built up all the different kinds of elements, right?"

Carol nodded. "Old stars exploded into supernovae, casting elements out into space, which came together to form new stars. That just kept going until we have the elements we have now."

Gaila said, "And one day the dust from the explosions made planets, and those planets evolved life." Carol tipped her head, and Gaila gazed back out at the station. "The ones that made this station, they were the old stars. Maybe they were even the _first_ stars. This station, it's just their stardust still floating around. Us, the Inhabitants-we're the new stars."

Carol watched the station, considering that. "But why aren't we more than they were?"

"Well, we will be eventually, but it takes a long time to get there. We're just, protostars right now. One day we'll shine as bright as they did. Maybe even brighter, and hopefully with a lot more clarity."

Carol stared at her glass of wine. "I don't imagine the Inhabitants wanted to be protostars."

"None of us really get a choice in that, come to it. Them less so than most. We're born and that's how it is." Gaila took in a breath and let it out, and Carol was reminded that Gaila had needed to claim her freedom. "But they're free now, and they can decide what their lives mean and where they'll go."

Carol thought of the protostar they'd left off surveying to come here. Word was it still hadn't ignited. "It won't be easy for them, after all of this."

"It won't," Gaila agreed. "But they've got the Galaxy's most powerful space station. That'll help. And they have each other."

Carol smiled faintly. Something seemed to pulse through the ship, like a brief hum, and she started as space began to lens around the facility. "Look."

They watched as the wormhole event horizon took shape around the station, curving the light of the stars behind it into a distorted circle. Another pulse made the ship vibrate, then the station vanished and the stars slid back into place.

Gaila said something under her breath in an Orion language.

Carol whispered, "Good luck."

* * *

**Previous**: _If He Should Not Sing_


End file.
